


Slowly the Days Turned Sour

by Aquila_Star



Series: Powers of Persuasion [16]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Madness, Plotty goodness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Star/pseuds/Aquila_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erebor, at last. Is it just the beginning, or the beginning of the end?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slowly the Days Turned Sour

Bilbo lay in sated bliss, feeling as if he was floating above the bed. Thorin had certainly outdone himself this time, and that was saying something. Perhaps he was spurred on by the fact that they'd be on the road again soon, and that, if they did not meet their deaths in dragon fire, that the mountain would hardy be more hospitable than the cold, hard ground. 

“You never cease to amaze me,” he said, flailing through the air with one hand until he hit his lover's chest, which was rising and falling as quickly as his own. 

“You inspire me,” Thorin answered simply, and Bilbo chuckled. 

“I inspire you to deeper levels of depravity?” Bilbo asked. “That's hardly an endorsement.”

“Good,” Thorin said, rolling over and draping an arm and leg over Bilbo's boneless body, his head resting on Bilbo's shoulder. He practically covered Bilbo's whole body from this position. “I'm not willing to endorse you to anyone else. In this respect, at least.”

“Hmmm.” Bilbo felt as if he could fall asleep right there, as messy as they were. Thorin's body was hot and firm against his, and Bilbo's limbs were still slack with release. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” he asked, without realising he was going to say anything. 

“Yes, and no,” Thorin murmured against his neck. “There are many things weighing on my mind, but to see Erebor again. To feel the stone and smell the air...it fills my hear with joyful anticipation.”

He pulled back to look at Bilbo, his eyes shining with excitement. “Oh Bilbo, I can't wait for you to see it. The halls are vast, carved from the most beautiful stone you'll ever see, green stone that glows as if lit from within, marbled with streaks of gold and crimson. It was always warm to the touch, thrumming with the song of the earth. There were lamps, twinkling with golden light, filling the pathways and rooms with a vibrant glow that you have to see to believe. One day, you'll see it. When the dragon is gone and we restore her glory, Erebor will once again thrive with life.”

“It sounds amazing,” Bilbo said, idly playing with the bead clasping one of Thorin's thick, silky braids. 

“I will show you all the wonders it has to offer, if Mahal sees fit to grace me with the opportunity.”

Bilbo smiled at him, taking immense pleasure in Thorin's pride, his anticipation, his determination. Thorin was a Dwarf of deep passions, however he concealed them from the world. 

“You're worried,” Bilbo stated. It was not a question. Bilbo had learned to read Thorin like a book. Others may have missed it, but Bilbo could see that under the almost childish enthusiasm Thorin's muscles were tense, even at rest, tight across his chest and shoulders. His face was strained with stress, to a knowing gaze it was visible, even beneath the brightness of his eyes. 

The brightness faded, and Bilbo almost wished he had said nothing. “Is it the dragon?” he asked. “Finding the hidden door?”

Thorin shook his head, his gaze sobering. “No, it's Kili,” he admitted at last, laying his head on Bilbo's chest once more. 

“I'm worried about him, too,” Bilbo said, running his fingers through Thorin's hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I think he's getting worse.”

“He certainly is,” Thorin agreed, wrapping his limbs tighter around Bilbo. “It's getting harder for him to move, I've seen it in every step he's taken during the last few days. I have seen the pain in his face, the tension.”

“What can we do? Oin isn't having any luck.”

“No, he isn't. The infection in the wound is persistent. Kili needs rest and medicine to overcome it, not exertion and stress and danger. It's becoming plain that he cannot come with us. I fear for his safety, and the strain of travelling with take its toll as well. And then there's the dragon. The dangers are many, and he is not at his best.”

“You're worried he's not up to it,” Bilbo said. 

“I know he isn't,” Thorin replied, pulling back, leaning his head on one hand, propped up on his elbow. Bilbo ran his fingers down Thorin's neck, hating how his face was stark with worry. “But the thought of leaving him behind...I don't know how he'll take it. I want him there, Bilbo. He is an heir to the throne of Erebor, he should have a part in our victory.”

“He has already, Thorin. He's been invaluable. As has Fili,” Bilbo pointed out, filled with a sense of foreboding at Thorin's certainty. Anything could happen, and Bilbo was apprehensive to say the least. “And you must realise that if Kili stays, it is likely that Fili will stay with him.”

“I am sure he will. He will not be able to leave his brother's side,” Thorin said, sorrow in his eyes. “But Kili must stay. I will not risk him unnecessarily.”

“He is not going to be happy.”

“I think that is a grave understatement.” Thorin looked down at him, sadly resigned to leaving Kili in Laketown, along with Oin and, most likely, Fili.

“You have done everything you could for him. For both of them,” Bilbo said. “For all of us. But you are not infallible, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo traced the shape of Thorin's eyebrows, his fingers drifting across his sharp cheekbones, sifting through the soft beard that covered his strong jaw. 

“I'm so grateful that you're here, amralime,” Thorin said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Now that Bilbo was aware of exactly what the word meant, he could feel the weight of Thorin's love pressing on him. He smiled at Thorin, his heart aching, but warmth pushed away the pangs when Thorin returned his smile, his eyes brightening once more. He leaned down and kissed Bilbo tenderly, his lips soft, his beard scratching lightly across Bilbo's skin. He'd thought he was done for the night, but as always, Thorin found a way to draw out his desire and set it aflame. 

They would not be getting much sleep, this night. 

 

* * * 

 

The morning was cold and dingy when the Company set out, the sun barely visible as it rose over Laketown. However, despite the early hour and the cold, there were crowds of people lining the path from the Master's house to the pier where their boat awaited, and there were more people lining the canal that would take them out of town. 

Thorin had awoken in his One's arms, Bilbo snuffling sleepily in his hair, his arms around Thorin's neck, his legs curled up against his belly. Sometimes it seemed as if Bilbo tried to climb inside him while they slept, and Thorin was well aware of the aptness of the metaphor. Bilbo had climbed inside him, totally and completely, and he had done it on the first night they had met. Everything that had followed was a result of that, and despite the coming of that day, the one Thorin was dreading, he would not change a thing. Loving Bilbo was the best thing he had ever done. 

And now, he was taking another step closer to his mountain, his home, and Bilbo was by his side. Looking ridiculous in the oversized hat the Master had forced on him, wearing a blue jacket he'd gotten at Bard's over his own tattered clothing. Thorin didn't care how he looked, Bilbo could be tied up in a potato sack and Thorin would love him.

And he had, now that he thought of it. But there were pressing matters to attend to, and there was still the issue of Kili. When Bilbo pointed out that Bofur was missing, Thorin cursed under his breath. They were losing Dwarves left and right, and the Company was not large to begin with. But they did not have time to find him, they were on a schedule. If they were to find the Hidden Door in time, they needed to leave. Now. 

But first, Thorin had to do one of the hardest things he'd ever done. He waited by the boat, and stopped Kili with a hand on his chest. He hated doing this now, but if he had talked to Kili before, he would have more time to argue, more time to change Thorin's mind, and he would not risk it. He would not risk Kili's life. 

“Not you,” he said, watching the disbelief cloud Kili's face. “We must travel with speed, you will slow us down.” Kili stood, shocked, and then brushed Thorin's words aside with a laugh, as if he'd been joking. If only it were that simple.

“What are you talking about? I’m coming with you.” Thorin's heart clenched at the hope in Kili's eyes. 

“No. I will not risk your life for the sake of this quest.”

“I’m going to be there when that door is opened, when we first look upon the halls of our fathers, Thorin.” Kili said, his determination evident in every word. It cut Thorin to the bone, he knew that Kili was right, that it should be so, and yet, it could not be. 

“Kili, stay here. Rest. Join us when you’re healed.” He squeezed Kili's shoulder, smiling sadly. He did not want to leave his nephew behind, but it was the only way. He hated the look on Kili's face, the betrayal, but there was nothing to be done. It was time to leave. 

“I’ll stay with the lad. My duty lies with the wounded,” Oin said, as he got out of the boat. Thorin slapped him on the shoulder. 

“Thank you, Oin.” he said, not meeting Kili's eyes, turning away to check the progress as the Company loaded up their gear. Unfortunately, that brought his eyes right to Fili, who was looking as betrayed as his brother. 

“Uncle,” he said, pleadingly. “We grew up on tales of the mountain. Tales you told us. You can’t take that away from him!”

“Fili,” Thorin said quietly, but Fili continued. 

“I will carry him, if I must!” Fili exclaimed, and Thorin knew that he would, if given the chance.

He shook his head. “One day you will be king, and you will understand. I cannot risk the fate of my kin for the sake of this quest. He is injured, dangerously so. He is not strong enough to make the trip, and I fear for him if we must face the dragon.”

Fili stared at him in disbelief, then his eyes flicked to Kili, who was struggling against Oin's attempts to examine him. He looked back at Thorin, his eyes filled with steely determination. He climbed out of the boat, heading toward his brother. Thorin reached out a hand to stop him, knowing that his plea would not be successful, but needing to make the attempt nonetheless. 

“Fili, don’t be a fool. You belong with the Company,” he said, but as predicted, Fili was not moved.

“I belong with my brother,” he said, simply, and then turned his back on Thorin, his loyalty for his brother, as it always had been. Thorin could not blame him, not really. He would have done anything for Frerin, would have gone to any lengths to protect him. In the end it had not been enough, and Frerin had fallen at Azanulbizar. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the memory of his little brother, covered in blood, his eyes blank and staring through Thorin in death. The thought of his sister sons meeting such a fate filled his veins with ice, and he prayed that Fili would never have to experience that pain, that loss. It was not something that was easy to live with. 

Thorin looked back to the boat, searching out Bilbo's eyes, and finding them gazing in his direction. He climbed down into the boat, moving to the front, letting out the breath he had been holding in one long exhale, sucking in another with surprise when a small hand slipped into his, squeezing firmly. He smiled down at Bilbo, but he knew that the smile did not meet his eyes. 

“You could have done that better,” Bilbo commented, but the softness of his voice was at odds with the censure of his words. Thorin sighed.

“No,” he said, looking back at the lake. “You could have. Not I.”

He took Bilbo's silence as agreement, then squeezed his hand once and let go, turning to face the Company. They were ready to go, and with a stuttered fanfare and the Master's simpering words, they pushed off from the dock. 

They were on their way. 

 

* * * 

 

The journey was longer than Bilbo expected. The road from Laketown to Dale had long since fallen into disuse, it was rough and uneven, completely overgrown in parts. The Company struggled forward, determined to reach the Overlook by nightfall, and find a place to camp there. Dale was perhaps an hour's walk from the gates of Erebor, Bilbo had learned, and Thorin wanted an early start the next morning. They would need the day to find the Hidden Door. 

Brief stops for food and rest were not enough, in Bilbo's opinion, so when they finally made camp just below the Overlook, in the lee of a rock that blocked most of the wind, he dropped his pack and collapsed, needing to be still for a few moments before facing the tasks at hand. Soon, he was searching for firewood, as he had many times before, the process of setting up camp had become a routine for him, one which they had not employed for longer than he'd realized. Since before they entered Mirkwood. 

Unlike those nights, so very, very many nights, this one was tinged with a sharp anticipation. The mountain was tall and dark over them, beckoning them closer. They did their best to ignore it, falling into their usual tasks, setting up bedrolls while Bombur distributed food. That was another thing that Bilbo was grateful for, actually having food. 

Bilbo finished his meal, dried fish reconstituted in broth...it wasn't the best they'd had, but Bombur had a way with it that bested the Master's cook by far. That was when he noticed that Thorin had not eaten with them. Bilbo looked around, wondering where he could have gotten to, and how he hadn't noticed. He turned and saw him then, sitting still as a boulder, no doubt staring over the ruins of Dale at the broken gates of Erebor. 

Bilbo dished up a bowl of soup and carried it up the hill, sitting carefully beside Thorin before handing him the bowl, which Thorin took.

“Thank you,” he said, and began eating it mechanically, his eyes never leaving the not so far off gates of the mountain. Bilbo sat silently, leaning against him, know how much Thorin appreciated a physical reminder of Bilbo's presence. Thorin was incredibly tactile, always reaching out for Bilbo, brushing a hand over his shoulder, along his back, through his hair. Bilbo had no idea how much he'd love it until it started happening. 

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, running a hand up Thorin's back and beneath his hair, rubbing firmly at the knots of tension in his neck. 

“I could be better,” Thorin admitted, placing the mostly empty bowl on the ground beside him. 

“I can tell,” Bilbo said quietly.

“You can read me better than many who have known me longer that you've been alive,” Thorin said with a smile, looking down at him warmly. “I don't know how you do it.”

“Well, I have the advantage of seeing you in ways they haven't.”

“Indeed you have,” Thorin agreed. His gaze was drawn back to the mountain, and all humour left Bilbo, replaced by an icy dread. Thorin's hands were twitching in his lap, his face clouded. Bilbo hated it, and he knew only one way to distract him. It had worked for him before. 

He looked behind them at the camp and found that most of the Company seemed engaged with each other or their bedrolls, so Bilbo decided to go ahead. They were quite aware of Bilbo and Thorin's relationship, of course, and Bilbo was most definitely not one for exhibition or drawing attention to himself, but in this case, he felt the risk of witnesses was worth the potential reward. 

He sat up, turning and straddling Thorin's lap, pressing their bodies together and draping his arms over Thorin's shoulders. He played absently with Thorin's hair, meeting his eyes to ensure that he had Thorin's attention. 

“I'm here,” he whispered, pleased that Thorin had turned his focus away form the mountain. 

“I'm so very thankful for that,” Thorin told him, his arms coming up to wrap around Bilbo, holding him close as he laid his head on Bilbo's shoulder. “I believe I will need you greatly before the end,” he said gravely, clutching even tighter. Bilbo could feel his rib cage compressing, and the apprehension he was feeling was growing. He could only hope that Balin was correct in his assessment, that he would be able to help Thorin overcome the gold sickness.

Thorin pulled back and kissed him, the slow, gentle kisses that always put a coil of heat in Bilbo's chest. He ignored it, as always, and enjoyed Thorin's attentions. His kisses were languid, both of them aware that it wasn't going to go any further, which made it all the sweeter. 

Finally Bilbo drew back, letting his head press against Thorin's letting himself hold on to this moment, the calm before the storm. 

“Come to bed,” he said at last, smiling softly at Thorin, and thankfully, Thorin agreed. He kissed Bilbo one last time, letting go only reluctantly. Bilbo clambered off his lap and picked up the bowl, letting Thorin take his hand and lead them back to camp. Tomorrow was a very big day, and it was coming all too quickly. 

 

* * * 

 

Finding the hidden door was easier said than done. Bilbo had greatly underestimated how vast an area would need to be searched, but suddenly, halfway through the afternoon, there it was. It was a difficult climb for Bilbo, being shorter than the Dwarves and possessing much less upper body strength. Then they were at the top and, after a short detour, the door was opened. 

This. This is what Bilbo was there for. Once they'd all filed inside, Balin explained about the Arkenstone, sending a chill down Bilbo's spine. There was that cold lump of dread in Bilbo's stomach, the same one that had been growing for days, even since Thorin had confessed his struggles, and it only increased as Balin led him away from the others, down the corridor. He looked back, hoping to encourage Thorin and gain encouragement from him, but when his gaze caught Thorin, he went cold. 

There was no warmth in his face. He stared past Bilbo at the gold tinted light toward the end of the corridor, his eyes dark and hard. 

Bilbo turned and followed Balin, terrified at what was to come. 

 

* * *

 

Terrified was a good word for how Bilbo was feeling. He had been in a state of terror since he had seen Thorin's harsh expression. He had feared for the worst, and it seemed that the worst had come to pass. 

He slumped against the wall outside the treasure halls, hidden for the moment from Thorin's brutal possessiveness. He could still feel the cold disdain in Thorin's eyes when he had found Bilbo after his confrontation with Smaug. He had demanded the Arkenstone, and he did not seem to hear Bilbo when he told him no, he hadn't found it, or even when he had said that the dragon was coming. For one horrifying moment, Bilbo had thought that Thorin was going to raise his sword. The tension had been unbearable. 

In that moment, Thorin bore no resemblance to the Dwarf who had kissed him so sweetly, only a few hours before. 

'So that is what gold sickness does to a person,' Bilbo thought, his heart breaking in side his chest, the pieces leaving behind a constant ache. 'He didn't even seem to know me.' The worst part was that Bilbo had lied. 

The Arkenstone was in his pocket.

The same stone that the Company was currently searching for. The eight of them had spent the last few days searching fruitlessly through the piles of treasure. But the piles were enormous, so Bilbo had time yet. Time to decide to do with the stone. It was clear that Thorin was not in a proper state of mind, but would having the stone help or would it make things worse?

Yet that was not the only thing that was pressing on Bilbo's mind. They had not killed Smaug, although he was gone. They had only succeeded in angering him before sending him off to Laketown. They had witnessed his demise, but not before he had lit half the town on fire. Bilbo was sure it was Bard who had brought down the beast, but beyond that, he knew nothing. 

The fate of the people of the town was weighing heavy on his mind and heart. Bard and his children were at the top of that list, but even higher was the fate of the Dwarves left behind. Kili's fate had been uncertain, his injury dangerously infected and now, Bilbo was increasingly worried for all of them. But there was nothing he could do for them now. Now, his first priority was Thorin. 

A completely different Thorin than the one he had come to know. He was utterly taken with the gold, and was driven to find the Arkenstone. He had also become jealously possessive of Bilbo, something that he had not been expecting. He guarded Bilbo's time and words fervently, keeping him separate from the others, rarely letting him out of his sight. It was stifling. Bilbo had long been feeling the weight of Thorin's regard, but this was different. Before, Thorin was willing to take only what Bilbo offered, regardless of his own desire. 

Now, Thorin's behaviour left Bilbo feeling less like someone Thorin loved, and more liked something he owned. A piece of treasure to be cherished, not a person to be valued. When he looked at Bilbo now, there was no warmth in him. There was only a feverish desire, cold and distant. He didn't speak to Bilbo anymore, even though Bilbo had tried to talk some sense into him. He simply did not hear it. 

Bilbo was sick with worry and filled with fear for Thorin's mental state. How was he to snap out of it, when the gold was all around them? It was truly an obscene amount of treasure, far more than Bilbo could even have imagined, having little use for riches of any sort. He had a comfortable living in the Shire, more comfortable than many, but it was more than sufficient for his needs, and he had never desired anything further. 

This...this was incredible. Gaudy, excessive, ludicrous...Bilbo could not think of a word to properly describe it. No wonder it had called a dragon forth. 

“What is that?” Thorin's voice came from nowhere, shocking Bilbo so that he jumped, his body shaking with the fear of discovery. “In your hand,” Thorin said as he strode up to Bilbo, who had jumped to his feet in an instant. He hadn't even realised he'd been toying with it, running the solid shape across his palm

“It's nothing,” he said carefully, his fist closing over the token within, unwilling to share it with Thorin, wanting to keep one piece of beauty untouched by Thorin's madness. 

“Show me,” Thorin commanded, and Bilbo was helpless to deny him. He held out his hand, uncurling his fist and revealing the greatest of his material treasures. The acorn was small but perfect, giving all indications of bearing a healthy seed, that Bilbo had hoped would flourish in his garden one day. He knew exactly where he was going to plant it, and looked forward to the day that it was tall and strong, its branches shading the bench that Bilbo had planned to put under it. 

“I picked it up in Beorn’s garden,” he said simply, watching Thorin carefully. 

“You’ve carried it all this way,” Thorin replied, stunned. His face had softened, though, along with his voice and Bilbo's chest pounded, hope burning wildly in his heart. 

“I’m gonna plant it in my garden, in Bag End.” He scarcely dared to believe that such a small thing could pull Thorin from the madness, but in front of him was the proof that it was possible. The proof that the Dwarf Bilbo knew still existed. 

Thorin's anger faded, a smile, the most beautiful smile Bilbo had ever seen, lit his face, his eyes warm for the first time since they'd opened the hidden door. 

“That’s a poor prize to take back to the Shire,” he remarked, his voice and eyes almost pleading with Bilbo, and if it had been any other moment, Bilbo would have wondered if this was Thorin's way of asking him to stay. 

Bilbo smiled back, hope bursting into flame within him. His Thorin was still there, he knew it. 

“One day it'll grow,” he said. “And every time I look at it, I’ll remember. Remember everything that happened, the good, the bad. And how lucky I am that I made it home.” He smiled again, heartened that Thorin smiled back, looking so like his former self, that Bilbo could feel the tears of joy burning behind his eyes. 

“Thorin, I...” he began, unsure of what he was planning to say. Instead, he decided to let his actions speak, taking a step forward and reaching up to kiss Thorin, expressing everything he felt and hoping it would make a difference. Thorin had barely touched him since they'd arrived, not gently at any rate. His hands on Bilbo had been heavy, a mark of ownership, and not the kind that Bilbo appreciated at all, mostly to drive home to the others that Bilbo was his and was not to be trifled with. As if they could forget, as if they would attempt anything. But Thorin had forgotten that, too caught up in the gold and the search for the Arkenstone, and perhaps if he could ground Thorin to him again, he could touch his heart. His real heart. 

His lips slid against Thorin's, oddly surprised to find that he tasted just as Bilbo remembered, surprised because everything had changed so very much. To his delight, Thorin kissed back, his touch tender for the first time since they'd entered the mountain. Bilbo pressed closer, letting his hands tangle in Thorin's hair, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he could reach him like this. 

That was when Dwalin found them, his voice like a bucket of cold water poured over them, killing not only their burgeoning desire, but any trace of Thorin. The dragon mad King was before him once more, and Bilbo drew back, needing to remove himself from his cold arms.

“Thorin, survivors...from Laketown. They are streaming into Dale. There’s hundreds of them.”

Bilbo gasped in pleasure, hoping beyond hope that Fili and Kili and the others were among the survivors. But Thorin seemed to be thinking very differently, his face a mask once more, as he called them all to the gate. Bilbo remembered Balin's words about denying the claims of those he felt unworthy, and the sick, clenching pain in Bilbo's stomach returned. 

 

* * *

 

Thorin commanded a wall rebuilt at the gates, determined that no one would rob him of his gold, with no word spoken about his nephews. Fortune was with them, however, and the four left behind had streamed into the mountain just as the rest began the work of building the wall. Bilbo was so relieved to seem them all well, to see Kili hale and pink once more, no longer grey and fading, that he almost cried. Bofur had tried to hug him, and while Bilbo would like nothing more than the reassurance of his friend's health, he dodged it swiftly and put distance between them, giving Bofur a swift shake of the head and a look of fear, glancing surreptitiously towards Thorin who was, thankfully, preoccupied with welcoming his nephews to his mountain. 

After that, they worked until sunrise, the Dwarves exhibiting their great strength and endurance, lifting great chunks of stone as if they were bricks, while Bilbo was all but useless, completely unsuited to the task. 

“You look worn out, my Hobbit,” Thorin said, approaching where Bilbo was slumped, drinking the last clear fluid from his waterskin. That was another thing bothering Bilbo. Thorin didn't use his name anymore. Nor did he whisper loving words in Khuzdul. As much as it had made him tense and uncomfortable before, Bilbo would have given almost anything to hear Thorin call him amralime, just once. 

Instead, he had fallen to possessive, impersonal greetings, words that twisted Bilbo's stomach into knots. 

“I am,” Bilbo replied, looking up at Thorin in dismay. “I am not well suited to this kind of heavy labour. I fear I am no help at all in this task.”

“Perhaps not,” Thorin agreed. “Perhaps you should rest and recover your strength.”

“Oh, I'm too keyed up for that. I was thinking, perhaps there is a less back breaking way I could assist you?” he suggested, continuing when Thorin nodded thoughtfully. “I thought I could keep searching for the Arkenstone. I know the chances of my finding it in such a vast hoard are all but non existent, but there's a better chance of that than me being suddenly able to lift a block of stone.” He finished with a chuckle, hoping to throw Thorin off his true reasoning by distracting him. 

If Thorin had noticed anything amiss, he did not show it. “Indeed,” he said, nodding his head again. “You are correct as ever, my golden one. It is a task I will gladly allow you. For I trust you as if you were my very soul, and I know you will not fail me in this.”

“I will do my very best, Thorin,” Bilbo replied, swallowing yet another lump of dread and cold fear. It was becoming a very bad habit, one that Bilbo would be ecstatic to give up. Thorin squeezed his shoulder, smiling at Bilbo with no real emotion, and turned, heading back toward the half built wall where the others were still toiling. 

Bilbo turned as well, casting one last glance at Thorin's retreating back, his mind spinning with speculation. He knew that the men of Laketown would come the next day expecting a share of the gold, a share they desperately needed and certainly deserved, and he knew that, with Thorin as he was now, the result would not be good. 

Perhaps it was time to 'find' the Arkenstone. For real.

**Author's Note:**

> I have merged the movie timeline with the books a bit, tweaking them to suit my purposes. 
> 
> Just an fyi, the tags will be changing a bit in the next instalment...I have big plans and I need to shift the focus of this fic for a bit to see them to fruition. The pairings will shift just a little, apologies if they don't appeal to you. Trust me folks, it'll all come together as it must, don't give up on me! This fic is Thorin/Bilbo all the way. :)


End file.
